The Sweetest Choice
by Butterfly Betty
Summary: The Sweetest Choice: Lost in a world of privilege, Bella just wants to be loved. Will Edward be able to sweep her off her feet? Or will a blast from her past shake things up? FAGE written for Claire Voilet Thorpe. MA/NC-17
1. Chapter 1

One

A few months ago, I never thought I'd find myself in this position, one where I had to make a decision that would not only define who I am, but who I wasn't anymore. My life wasn't supposed to be so complicated. Though, I suppose that's true to everyone's life. Nobody expects the bumps in the road, but perhaps, they do make us stronger.

Growing up, I'd never wanted for anything. Literally. My parents, for the lack of better term, left me in the hands of caregivers until I rebelled, demanding at the tender age of fourteen that I could take care of myself. Of course, that pleased my father. After all, I'd saved him the measly salary he'd been paying Sue. If I hadn't know how relieved she felt to be getting away from me, I'd have felt sorry for her. Besides, it wasn't anything new to me. People had been abandoning since my first breath. That may sound harsh, but the truth hurts.

I sounded like a spoiled brat, and maybe I am, or was one, but that's just my life. When I was six years old, I told my mother I wanted a pony. The next day, there were three in our stables for me to pick from. After standing there for ten minutes, trying to decide between the chestnut brown one, the sleek black one, or the white one, she waved an aggravated hand around and announced I could have them all. That was always her answer, though. She thought she could buy my love. And you know, she could.

Of course, I suppose it's better than the way my father showed his so called love for his only child. If he bothered to speak to me at all, he chose to criticize me, blasting me for being lazy and undeserving of the lifestyle he and Mother had created for me. I laughed, letting my bitterness show. I was simply the product of one fucked up situation. My father's irritation with my lifestyle was directly responsible for the predicament I found myself in. He insisted that if I expected to keep being supported by him financially, I'd better make an effort to uphold the family name. Like being one of the Swan's was so fucking amazing.

After much searching, I decided the best way for me to make my mark was to venture out into the one thing my father couldn't stand, the ever unpredictable world of art. Choosing to set up a small gallery, I spent months making it perfect, finding just the right people to show their work. Of course, Charlie Swan didn't give a shit, he never did when it came to me.

I found Esme Masen, a spunky red head with an attitude to match, standing on a street corner and a dozen canvases leaning against the building behind her. While most of her work was mediocre, she had a carefree spirit and if anyone was going to piss Daddy off, it'd be her. Getting her to show her work in my gallery had been easy, all she was really looking for was a hand up.

As the night of the big show dawned nearer, I found myself getting more excited about my new venture in life. What had started as a way to piss Daddy off, suddenly became something I could be proud of. Perhaps, I'd finally found something for me, and not for him. The opening started off just as planned. Dozens of my so called friends came out to support me, but in truth, they were there for their chance to get on the society page. I didn't really blame them, it wasn't that long ago that I'd have been right there with them, angling for the same opportunity.

"Oh, my God, Isabella," gushed Esme, looking around the gallery with wide, innocent hazel eyes. "I can't believe this is actually happening. There are so many cameras and reporters."

"You'll get used to it," I laughed, hooking my arm in with hers. "This is only the beginning for you."

"I wish I had your confidence," she replied, breathlessly.

Before I could respond to her, a loud crash startled us. Spinning around, we found five of her paintings laying in the middle of the floor with some guy in the middle of them. "EDWARD!" she screeched, causing him to shifted his deep green eyes up to mine.

With dark auburn hair that looked like someone had been gripping onto it in the throws of ecstasy, his gaze traveled down my body, resting on my long legs. Clearing his throat, he turned back Esme, his cheeks turning beet red. It was adorable. "I'm sorry, Esme," he mumbled, shifting uncomfortably from all the attention him. If it wasn't so damn cute, I'd feel sorry for him. "It was an accident."

"It always is," sighed Esme, walking over to him. "I'm glad you could make it, though."

"Like I'd miss the biggest day in my little sister's life," he scoffed, chancing a glance over at me. Pulling my bottom lip between my teeth, I raised an eyebrow, causing his cheeks to darken even more as he looked back at his sister. "Again, I'm sorry."

"It's fine." Esme waved him off dismissively. "Just try not to knock anything else over."

"I'll try," he mumbled, reaching down for one of her paintings.

"No, I've got it," she blurted, covering his hand with hers. "Why don't you get yourself a drink or something?"

"Here, let me show you to the bar," I offered, looping my arm in with his.

Without giving him much of a chance to argue, I dragged him away from Esme, leaving her to clean up his mess. Stopping in front of the small, oak bar, I gestured for the bartender I'd hired to pass over two glasses of Champagne. Thanking him with a smile, I turned and offered one to Edward, who frowned as he wrapped his long fingers around the stem.

"Who are you?" He slammed his free hand over his mouth, clearly startled by his outburst.

However, I found it endearing, almost cute. Giggling, I reached up, tugging his hand away from his lips, his very supple, sensual lips. "I'm Isabella Swan. You're Edward."

"How'd you know my name?" he asked.

"Esme called you Edward," I murmured. "I assumed you to be him."

"Oh," he muttered, shifting his eyes over to her. "I should help her."

"No, you shouldn't," I laughed, releasing his hand, but slipping my arm in with his. "She's got everything under control. Besides, you and I should get to know each other better."

"We should?" He sounded doubtful, yet intrigued at the same time.

I smiled. "Yes, we should."

Looking around, he nodded, inhaling a deep breath. I could normally read a man, know just want he wanted, within moments of meeting him. Of course, most men weren't terribly difficult, either. They tended to only want one thing and that was finding their way between my legs. However, Edward was an enigma to me, keeping me fascinated with his every breath.

He shifted his eyes back to mine. "This is your gallery."

It wasn't a question.

"Yes," I replied. "Are you an artist like your sister?"

"God no," he scoffed, looking abashed a moment later. "Not that there is anything wrong with being an artist, even if it doesn't pay the bills. It's just not my thing, I suppose."

"And what exactly is your thing?" I wondered.

"Um, I'm a professor," he mumbled, shrugging his shoulders. "I'm sure that sounds dreadfully boring to someone like you."

"Someone like me?" I tried to hide the offended undertone, but I couldn't. "Just how is someone like me?"

"I didn't mean any disrespect," he said in a rush. "Most women, especially beautiful ones, don't find a man like me, a mere educator, to be attractive."

"You think I'm beautiful?" This time, my cheeks were the ones that warmed. People often uttered that simple word to me, but I'd never believed them. They only saw the money my family had, not the real me.

"Yes," he whispered, dropping his eyes from mine. "I'm sure you hear that all the time, though."

"Not really," I murmured, leading him toward a few of the paintings. "At least not by anyone I'd believe."

"I have a hard time believing that, Miss. Swan."

"Call me Isabella, or better yet call me Bella." I stopped us in front of one of Esme's paintings. "This one's my favorite of hers."

"Why?" he asked, angling his body toward me.

Bringing my hand up to my throat, I shifted my gaze back to the painting, trying to find the words to explain why this one spoke to me. A young girl sat in the middle of an empty room with her legs folded in front of her. She held brown teddy bear in her lap, her face tilted upward. The moonlight poured into the room through a single window, the curtain blowing from the breeze outside. In the corner of the room were a pair of blood-red eyes, focused on the little girl. She was alone, trapped with a monster. Only, it wasn't a the kind of monster that hid in your closest, or under your bed. It's the kind that stood in front of you everyday, spatting off about just how much you cost him to love, his idea of love anyway.

"I don't know," I lied. "Maybe it's the look on the little girl's face."

"Hmm," he hummed, turning he headed toward one of the other sections.

"What does that mean?" I scrambled after him.

"Nothing." While his tone came off as just nonchalant, under the surface there was something I didn't understand, almost like pity.

"It wasn't nothing," I scoffed, grabbing his arm and stopping him. "What did you mean by that?"

"Nothing," he repeated, but his eyes left mine.

"Don't lie to me," I snarked, stepping closer to him. I'd just met this man, yet I found myself needing his approval. It was insane. "I could hear it in your voice."

"It's nothing," he retorted. "Why do you care what I think anyway?"

"I-I don't know," I admitted, exhaling. "But tell me."

"The look on your face," he told me, placing his hand under my chin and tilting my head back. "It's like you saw yourself in her painting."

All I could do was stare at him. How could he see right through me? Pulling my face out of his nimble fingers, I stepped away from him. "You don't know what you're talking about."

Leaving him standing there, I rushed through the crowd, ignoring my so-called friends, who wanted to kiss my ass, and the press, who wanted to suck a little more of my soul out for their morning editions. Placing my hand over my mouth, I slammed the door to my office shut, sliding to the floor, and screaming. How in the hell could he see me better than I could see myself?


	2. Chapter 2

Two

In the days that followed, I found myself reflecting more and more on my life, or lack there of. In reality, I had more than most people would ever want, but it wasn't what I wanted. My entire life had been a lie. I had seen myself in that painting; the very essence of who I'd been running from. I didn't want to be alone in the dark, afraid of who I'd be disappointing. I wanted to be more than Isabella Swan.

Of course, that sounded much easier than it'd actually be to make happen. While my father hadn't noticed one thing I'd done in the last few months, he wouldn't allow me to tarnish his good name. Charlie Swan's reputation was worth more to him than my meager feelings; he'd made that painfully clear. Everyday, I left the house I'd grown up in, heading down to my gallery. At least there, I could breath without feeling the walls close in around me. Not that it really helped.

Locking the front door to my gallery, I prepared to head back to my parent's house and hide out for the evening. I'd been avoiding my parents since the night of Esme's opening, not that they'd noticed. It wasn't until Mother was surfing through the society pages, searching for any mention of her, that she even realized I'd opened the gallery. I was so used to it by now, it barely hurt anymore. Barely.

Turning toward the street, I was startled when I found Edward leaning against a beat-up silver Volvo. With his arms folded in front of his chest, he had his legs stretched out in front of him, feet crossed at the ankle. For several heartbeats, we simply stared at each other, perhaps, waiting for the other to make the first move. For the first time in days, my chest didn't hurt when I took a breath.

"Hey," he murmured.

"Hi," I responded. "What-what are you doing here?"

Edward shrugged his shoulders. "Just in the neighborhood."

"Ah," I said, turning from him. "Well, I've had a long day, so if you'll excuse me."

"That's a lie," he sighed. Stopping in mid-step, I waited for him to keep going. "I came looking for you."

Looking back at him, I asked, "Why?"

"I don't know," he admitted, smiling. "I can't stop thinking about you."

"Oh."

"You left so suddenly the other night," he continued, taking a step in my direction. "I was worried."

"I'm fine," I lied.

"You're a shitty liar, Miss Swan," he chuckled, shaking his head.

"It's Bella," I snapped. "And, once again, you don't know me well enough to call me a shitty liar, Edward."

He stopped laughing. "No, I don't." Sighing, I turned to head to my car. "But I want to know you."

"Why?" I scoffed, throwing my hands up.

"Because you're fascinating."

Laughing, I shook my head. "Just what a girl always wants to hear. You might as well add that you think I'm special."

"I didn't mean it like a bad thing," he muttered, blushing around his ears. "I simply meant that you're not like I thought you'd be."

"Just how did you think I'd be?" I asked.

"Vapid, snotty, condescending to those of us who didn't grow up in the lap of luxury," he rambled on.

"How do you know I'm not those things?" I grumbled, knowing I was each and every one of them.

"Your eyes," he explained, drawing my gaze up to his. "There's something about your eyes. It's like you're searching for something, but you don't know what." I exhaled a shaky breath, blinking back my tears. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that."

"No, it's fine," I found myself lying to him again. "I just don't know how you do that."

"Do what?" He took another step toward me.

"See me," I whispered, placing my hand on my chest. "The real me."

"I look." He made it sound simple.

I rolled my eyes."You're the only one who looks."

"I doubt that," he scoffed.

"Trust me," I mumbled. "You are."

"Wow, that's really sad, then," he grumbled.

Running my hand through my hair, I laughed. "Yeah."

Reaching over, he took hold of my hand, bringing his other up to my cheek. Brushing away the tears that rested on my alabaster skin, he stepped even closer. Tilting my head up, his lips parted as he searched my eyes. My chest heaved against him, wanting or needing something from him. I just wasn't sure what that something could be. I brought my hand up, covering his. Leaning down slowly, his lips met mine, capturing my soul in one breath.

For a moment, I wasn't sure how to react. I hardly knew this man, yet when his lips touched mine, everything felt normal, almost perfect. Like he'd always meant to be standing here in the middle of the street, holding me in his arms. Moaning, I slipped my hand around to the back of his neck, weaving my fingers in his hair. Pulling his mouth from mine, he left his forehead pressed against mine, a beautiful smile playing on his face.

"I've wanted to do that since I first met you," he murmured, like he was confessing his greatest sin.

"You did?" I smiled. He nodded. "Why?"

"You're beautiful," he whispered. "Surely you know that."

My smile dropped. "No."

"How's that possible?" he gasped. "Look at the world you live in!"

"The world I live in?" I groused, pulling away from him. "You know nothing of the world I live in."

Running his hand through his hair, he sighed. "I didn't mean to offend you. It's just, you can have anything you want, anytime you want it."

"You don't know what you are talking about," I quipped, dropping my eyes to the ground.

Edward scoffed, "Oh, please, look at the car you drive, the clothes you wear."

I laughed, gesturing to the outfit I'd mindlessly put on this morning. "These are nothing," I spat. "My mother uses these to buy my affections, or more to keep me out of her way. And my car? My father insisted that if I was going to have one, I should have one that adequately displays our family's worth in society. I hate all of it."

"Yet, you still drive it," he snarked.

"I do," I murmured, wiping a stray tear off my face.

Edward reached out, taking my hand back in his. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," I replied, trying to smile. "I am all those things." I sighed, shaking my head. "You're right, I can have anything I want without too much hassle. Everything, but the one thing I've always wanted."

"What?" he asked.

"To be loved for who I really am," I whimpered, lifting my eyes back to his. "You don't want to listen to me blubbering about my pitiful life."

"Pitiful life," he scoffed. "You have more money than God and you're complaining about it. I'd love to be able to not worry about how I'm going to pay my bills every fucking month."

Closing my eyes, I laughed. "You're right, I'm just being a whiny little bitch. I mean, come on, right? I wouldn't know anything about desperately wanting what I can't have, no matter how hard I try to get it."

"What is it you want?"

"I, um, I.." I took a deep breath. "It doesn't matter."

"Of course, it matters," he insisted, squeezing my fingers. "Tell me."

"Acceptance," I whispered, feeling my traitorous tears welling up in my eyes.

"Who do you want to accept you?" he asked, using his free hand to wipe the moisture from my cheeks.

"Everyone," I wept. "People look at me and see who my father wants to them to see; a spoiled little rich girl, living off his name. I don't give shit about being Isabella Swan. I want people to look at me and just see Bella. Silly, I know."

"It's not silly," he disagreed, brushing his lips across mine. "I don't see you as Isabella Swan anymore, either."

"You don't?" I sniffed back my tears.

"No." Edward smiled a sexy, crooked smile. "I see a beautiful woman, who went out of her way to help my sister. I see someone pretty fucking amazing. I see someone I'd really like to get to know better."

"Yeah?" I couldn't help, but smile with him.

"Yeah," he sighed, blushing. "How about some dinner? Maybe some talking, a little more kissing, and whatever else you want."

"That sounds nice."

Edward and I headed down the block the block to a quaint little Italian restaurant. Sitting at a small table in the back, we spent hours talking, sharing tidbits of our lives with each other. Most of the time I sat there with my chin resting on the palm of my hand, listening to him ramble on about him and Esme, their parents and life in general. Sometime between our chicken parmesan and the Death by Chocolate Cake we shared, I found myself falling in love with the man who spilled his water down his shirt, muttering an apology under his breath. He was adorably unlucky and awkward, but I was in love with him.


	3. Chapter 3

Three

The days turned into weeks, which faded into months. With every moment I got to spend with Edward, I found myself falling deeper in love with him. The harder I fell, the more terrified I became. Edward wasn't anything like the men who I'd dated before. He didn't care whether or not I looked perfect, or if he brushed his hair before walking through the door. Instead of going out to dinner at fancy, expensive restaurants, he preferred to order take-out and curl up on his couch, watching reruns of Family Guy. While with every heartbeat I knew my feelings for him grew stronger, I hadn't been able to get the courage to tell him how I felt. Men like Edward didn't deserve women like me; he was better than me.

"Baby, you here?" he called, walking into the my gallery.

Smiling to myself, I pushed away from my desk, rushing out of my office. He stood just inside, running a nimble hand through his wet hair. The morning drizzle had picked up, turning into a full blown storm. Lifting his eyes to mine, he grinned, causing my heart to race in my chest. He'd never understand the effect he had on me, both physical and emotional.

"Hey, I thought you had a late class today," I murmured, slipping my arms around his neck.

"I decided to cancel, seeing as it's raining cats and dogs outside," he snickered, leaning down and brushing his lips against mine. "Besides, I missed you."

Ducking my head into the crook of his neck, I felt my cheeks burn. "I missed you, too."

"Don't hide from me," he whispered, moving his lips to just below my ear. I shivered against him. "Cold, baby?"

"No," I breathed, weaving my fingers in his hair. "Kind of getting hot, actually."

"Oh, really." Smirking, Edward ghosted his fingers down my arms, leaving a trail of tingles in his wake.

"Edward," I moaned. "Stop."

"Why?" he groaned, but dropped his hand to my hips.

"Because everyone outside can see us." The minute the words left my lips, I regretted them. While Edward had been very understanding about my desire to keep us out of the papers, he hadn't hid the fact that it bothered him. "Edward."

"Don't," he groused, taking a deep breath. "I don't want to fight tonight."

"Me either," I mumbled, pulling on my bottom lip.

"Then let's not." He smiled. "Let me take you to an early dinner."

"I-I can't," I sighed. "I'm having dinner with my parents."

"Oh," he deadpanned.

"I thought you were teaching," I tried to explain, but Edward dropped his hands from my hips, stepping away from me. "Edward-"

"No," he muttered, reaching for the door. "You know, I thought you didn't want me to judge you, Bella, but that's all you've done to me. It's clear you don't think I'm good enough to really be in your life." Lifting his eyes to mine, he frowned. "When you decide what you really want, let me know. I'm tired of hiding how much I love you."

Leaving me standing there stunned, Edward slammed the door behind him. I chased after him, but he peeled away from the curb before I could stop him. With the rain falling over me, I brought my hands up to my lips. Edward loved me, he actually loved me, and all I did was fuck everything up.

Without really thinking, I headed back into my office and gathered my belongings. I locked the gallery behind me and climbed into my car, heading back to my parents' house. In the last handful of months, I'd maybe spent ten nights here. They never noticed that I was gone. As usual, until they needed something from me, I was nothing more than a mere thought. Honestly, I was embarrassed enough by my parents without having Edward actually meet them.

Pulling into the garage, I cut the engine, but just sat there. Digging my cell phone from my purse, I dialed Edward's number, getting his voice mail.

"Edward, I'm sorry I didn't tell you," I began. "I-I don't want you to meet them, to know how horrible they are. You're too good for me, baby, don't you get it? You're worth a hundred of them. Please, baby, don't give up on me. I-I love you."

Quickly closing my phone, I exhaled, allowing my tears to fall freely. I couldn't lose him now. He'd never truly understand how much I loved, needed, and depended on him to keep me together. He made me the person I was always meant to be. Taking a deep breath, I climbed out of my car. I wouldn't allow my parents to get between us, either, even if I was the one putting them there.

Walking into the house, I murmured a quiet greeting to Leah, our cook, before heading into the living room, expecting to find my parents waiting for me. Stopping in mid-step, I found them, but they weren't alone. Sitting on the dark, olive green sofa was none other than Carlisle Cullen, the son of my father's best friend.

A devastatingly handsome man, Carlisle was nearly ten years older than me. He had silky, honey blond hair and the deepest pair of blue eyes I'd ever seen. As a little girl, I'd been infatuated with him, dreaming of the day when he'd finally see me. Of course now, the only person I wanted was Edward, and he'd grown tired of my fears.

"Isabella, why are you all wet?" scolded Renee, standing up. Rushing over to me, she placed her hand on my elbow, tossing Carlisle a fake smile. "We'll be right down."

"No worries, Renee," he laughed, waving her off, but keeping his eyes locked on me. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Good," she chirped, tightening her grip.

Without giving me a chance to respond, she jerked me around, dragging me up the spiraling staircase and into my bedroom. Closing the door behind us, she released my arm, but headed straight into my closest. "Hurry, Isabella, and get cleaned up. He won't wait long for you."

"Mother, I'm really not in the mood to entertain guests," I muttered.

"Nonsense," she scoffed, dismissively. Stepping out of my closet with an armful of my clothes, she shook her head. "This is Carlisle Cullen, darling, and you will do as you're told for once in your life."

"Mother-" I began.

"Now, Isabella," she snapped, throwing my wardrobe on the bed. "You have ten minutes."

Walking out of my room, Renee closed the door behind her, leaving me standing there. Closing my eyes, I cried to myself, wishing I'd been stronger. I wanted to be with Edward right now, not standing in the middle of a cold bedroom, longing for his warm embrace. Bringing my hand up to my cheek, I brushed my tears away and swallowed my pride. I'd get through this evening and run back to him, begging him to forgive me, pleading with him to love me.

Ten minutes later, I'd managed to clean myself up and make myself presentable. Taking a deep breath, I opened the door to my bedroom and walked downstairs, taking each step methodically. Carlisle's booming laughter echoed up to me, followed my Renee's drunken giggle. No doubt, she'd already consumed half the liquor cabinet before he even arrived this evening. She'd never been one to hide her preference for an extra dirty Martini, or five.

"There she is," sang Renee, gesturing to me.

Carlisle's smile grew as he stood up, crossing the room and taking me into his arms before I had the chance to breath. Leaning toward me, he brushed his lips across my cheek. "It's lovely to see you again, Isabella."

"You as well," I murmured, placing my hand on his chest and pushing him away. "Last I heard you were somewhere in Switzerland with Tanya."

"Yeah, that didn't really work out," he chuckled, grimacing. "Turns out, she found her true soul mate, but last I heard, she and Irina were very happy."

"Oh," I replied, trying not to smile, but failing. "That's good, I suppose."

Carlisle shrugged his shoulders. "I guess."

"Well, now that Isabella has decided to grace us with her presence," Charlie turned his glare onto me, "how about if we settle at the table? Some of us have been working all day and would like to have dinner."

I dropped my eyes away from his, biting my tongue to stop from smarting off. He'd sat on his ass all day, ordering everyone around. Selfish bastard would never see past himself, but then again, neither had I, or Edward would be standing next to me right now.

"Excellent idea, darling," Renee announced, sliding her arm in with his. "Isabella, come along and make sure Carlisle doesn't get lost."

"Yes, Mother," I gritted out. Carlisle placed his hand in the middle of my back, gesturing for me to follow my parents. Inwardly, I cringed away from his touch, knowing no man could ever make me feel the way Edward did.

Charlie settled at the head of the table, while Renee sat at the other end. Carlisle pulled out my chair for me, winking at me before walking around to the other side and taking a seat. Before we could say anything, Leah started bringing dinner out, setting a plate of grilled chicken, rice, and asparagus in front of each of us. For the first time in the nearly five years that she'd worked of us, I found myself truly seeing her.

Tall and thin, she was quite beautiful. She had long, smooth black hair that had been pulled back and braided so that it hung down her back. Her russet skin was flawless, her dark eyes mesmerizing. Dropping my eyes to the simple gold band on her left hand finger, I stifled my gasp. She was married and I had no idea. Just one more sign of how lost I was in my own world.

"Thank you, Leah, that will be all," Renee dismissed her. Leah frowned at her indifferent tone. So did I. My mother could be cold and callous, much like I'd been with Edward.

"Yes, ma'am," murmured Leah. "I'll be in the kitchen if you need anything."

Renee didn't bother replying to her. While the words slipped to the tip of my tongue, I couldn't find myself to let them out. Leah walked back into the kitchen, allowing the swinging door to sweep her away from the madness surrounding us. She was the lucky one, being able to go back to the man who loved her, maybe even a family of her own. I envied her.

"Well, now that Isabella is here, we can start settling on some details," Renee slurred picking up her glass of wine. "Carlisle, from what your mother told me, you're planning on relocating to the New York. Something about a new anchor position on one of the morning shows."

"Yes, once the wedding is over, we're going to be living in the city, a penthouse in Manhattan." Carlisle smiled as he looked over at me. "I'm sure you'll love it there, Isabella."

"Excuse me?" I sputtered. "Why would I love it there?"

Looking from me to my father, Carlisle's eyes widen. Charlie, on the other hand, merely shrugged his shoulders, spouting out three words I never expected for him to utter, "You're marrying Carlisle."


	4. Chapter 4

Four

Stunned. That was the only word to explain how I felt in that moment. Shifting my eyes from Charlie, to Carlisle, to Renee, and back to my father, I placed my hands on the edge of the table, trying very hard not to let the series of four letter words slip out of my mouth. They had be joking, right? They couldn't be seriously sitting here saying they'd arranged for me to marry a man I hadn't seen in months.

"No," I muttered, pushing my chair away from the table. "No."

"Isabella, we told you about this," Renee said, waving her hand around.

"You didn't mention this to me at all," I snapped, standing up. "In fact, Mother, this would be the first time in at least four weeks that you've spoken a single word to me."

"I emailed you about it," she explained.

"Email?" I gasped, little out a strangled chuckle. Carlisle leaned back in his seat, placing his hands in his lap. "You don't tell someone you've made a decision that will ruin their life in an goddamn email, Mother!"

"Isabella, do not use that language in my house," Charlie ordered, slamming his hand on the table. "It's time you grew up and started acting like an adult. Since you can't seem to find a proper husband, your Mother and I were forced to make that decision for you, like we have so many times in your life."

"Fuck you," I spat, kicking my chair back against the wall. My mother gasped, while Carlisle snickered under his breath. As usual, Charlie looked indifferent. "You know, Dad if you'd get your head out of your ass for five minutes, you'd see that I'm capable of more than you think."

"Perhaps, I should go," muttered Carlisle, moving away from the table.

"Nonsense," Charlie replied, standing up. "I think Isabella and I need to have a conversation in my office. We'll be right back."

"No," I said, defying him as he reached for my arm. "You can't treat me like this anymore, Father. All you've ever done is berate me for not being good enough, making snide comments about me being lazy. How can you know anything about who I am when you can't look past yourself?"

"Myself?" he laughed, bitterly. "Isabella, all I've ever done is provide for you and your mother. You've never wanted for anything in your life."

"Bullshit," I whimpered, feeling my eyes filling up with tears. "All I've ever wanted was for you to love me. Just me, for how I am, but you don't. Now, you're trying to pawn me off to someone else. Well, you know what, you can go straight to fucking hell. I don't need you, or your fucking money."

Spinning on my heel, I stormed out of the room. However, I'd barely made it half way through the foyer when Charlie grabbed my arm, slamming me against the closest wall. For the first time in my life, I found myself terrified of him. His eyes were dark and angry, the stench of scotch heavy on his breath.

"How dare you talk to me like that, you little bitch," he snarked, bits of spit landing on my face. "You're nothing without me. NOTHING!"

"I'm nothing with you," I snarled, trying to free myself. His grip on my arm was too tight, his fingers dug into my skin. "Daddy, you're hurting me!"

"You've disappointed me!" he yelled, releasing my arm.

"I've disappointed you?" I scoffed. "I think you have it backward. All I want is for you to be proud of me, Dad, to love me and see that I'm worth more than your fucking company. You don't even acknowledge I'm in the room unless I'm in your way somehow."

"I do love you, Isabella, but what have you done with your life?" he choked out, shock evident.

Closing my eyes, I struggled to keep my voice even. "The fact that you even have to ask me that question proves my point." Lifting my gaze to his, I explained, "I opened an Art Gallery, one that's been very successful."

"With my money," he stated.

"Yes, which I've managed to triple in the six months that I've been open. I took my profits and invested them, making sure that I was careful where I put my money. I remember you saying once that a smart person spreads their investments, both playing safe and taking chances." Charlie stepped away from me, placing his hands on his hips. "Guess, you never realized that I did listen to you. Too bad you never took the time to listen to me."

"Isabella," he sighed, shaking his head. "All I've wanted was for you to be happy in life."

"And you think marrying Carlisle is going to make me happy?" I seethed. "I don't love him. Hell, I'm not even sure I like him."

"Yeah, I'm standing right here," muttered Carlisle, drawing our attention to him. "And on that note, I'm gone."

"Nonsense, Carlisle, you don't need to leave," Renee insisted, placing her hand on his arm before he'd managed to take more than a step. "Once Isabella is done throwing her little tantrum, we can sit down and get all the details of the wedding sorted."

"There isn't going to be any wedding, Mother," I snapped. "I am not marrying Carlisle."

"Of course you are. People are beginning to talk, darling, and we can't have that, now can we?"

"Honestly, I don't give a shit," I told her. Her mouth fell open. "Those people aren't worth my time, Mother. I've wasted enough of my life worrying what other people thought of me. I won't waste anymore. Not on them, or on you." Shifting my eyes over to my father, I shook my head. "Either of you."

Wrapping my arms around my body, I walked past them both, for once not caring that my tears poured down my face. Not caring that they'd never truly understand who I was then and who I am now. They were right when they said they expected more from me than I could give them; they wanted the perfect daughter, and no matter how hard I tried, I'd never measure up. Closing the front door behind me, I lifted my face to the drizzling rain, allowing it to wash away the hurt.

"That was kind of brutal." Sighing, I turned around, finding Carlisle standing behind me. "I'm sorry, Isabella. I was told you agreed to the marriage."

"How could you agree to marry me anyway?" I asked, shaking my head. "You don't love me."

"Marriage doesn't have to be about love," he scoffed, pushing his hair out of his face. "I'm tired of being alone."

"And you think an arranged marriage is the answer?"

"Better than being alone all the time," he muttered, shuffling down the front steps. "Women look at one thing when they are with me, Isabella, the size of my bank account. Maybe it's foolish, but I want to fall madly in love with the a woman, to spend hours watching her sleep next to me, knowing she's mine." Pausing, he brought his hand up to the back of his neck. "Stupid, I know."

"It's not stupid," I whispered. He lifted his eyes to mine. "His name is Edward, and I'm in love with him, Carlisle. He's perfect and amazing. He makes me smile over the dumbest shit, and I laugh with him. I don't feel like I have to pretend to be Isabella with him, I can just be Bella."

"Then why are you here?" he exclaimed.

"Because, I ruined it all," I cried, covering my mouth with my fingers. "He thinks I'm ashamed of him because I won't introduce him to them, but it's not him I'm ashamed of."

"So, why are you standing here with me, when you could be begging him to love you?" Stepping up to me, Carlisle placed his hands on my shoulders. "Isabella...Bella, don't let him go if he makes you happy and don't let your parents cause you to lose someone you want to spend the rest of your life with."

"And if it's too late?" I asked, lifting an eyebrow.

"Then you keep fighting." Carlisle smiled. "And I'm gonna keep searching for the right woman."

"She's out there somewhere."

"You think so?"  
I nodded. "Yes, but you have to figure out who you are, before you can be happy with anyone. Learned that lesson the hard way."

"Yeah, I know," he sighed, running his hand through his hair. "Go to Edward, Bella, don't give up on love."

"I won't, I promise."

Twenty minutes later, I sat in front of his building, watching the light pour from his apartment window. My legs shook as I climbed out of the car and I willed them to be strong enough to get me to his door. Swallowing against the lump in my throat, I headed into his building, taking the elevator to the third floor. The hallway felt twice as long. Stopping in front of his red door, took a deep breath and knocked, hoping and praying he wouldn't slam the door in my face.


	5. Chapter 5

Five

The wait was excruciating. After what felt like hours, but in reality was only half a minute, the door to Edward's apartment opened, revealing the man I'd fallen in love with. Lifting his eyes up to mine, I wanted to throw my arms around him, hold on forever. His deep green eyes were red and swollen, his hair an even bigger mess than normal. Guilt for hurting him ripped through me.

Clamping his jaw together, he sighed. "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to talk to you."

"Why?" he gritted. "So you can give me more bullshit about how you're not ashamed of me."

"I'm not," I insisted. Edward shook his head, disbelief rolling off of him in waves. Reaching for his hand, I dropped mine when he stepped away from me. I'd ruined everything. "Edward, you're the best part of my life. I didn't want you to meet them because they're assholes. God, you wouldn't believe what they pulled tonight."

"You're right, I wouldn't, because I wasn't there," he snarled. I flinched. "Why are you here, Bella?"

"I love you," I admitted, allowing the three little words to flow freely. "I've loved you since the night you came to my gallery. I've been terrified to tell you, but I'm not now."

"Why aren't you?" he asked, the harshness dying away with each word he spoke.

"Because I lost you," I cried, bringing my fingers up to my lips. "All it took was a heartbeat with you gone and I thought I'd die."

"Yet, you didn't come after me," he deadpanned. "You went there, to them. You claim that you love me, that you need me, but you didn't chase me, Bella. I'd have gone to the ends of the earth for you. Would you do that same?"

"Yes," I wept. "People look at my life and they see the money; the expensive car, the designer clothes, but they've never seen me. Nobody, but you. Everything I've done in my life was to try to earn my parents' approval, but I realized tonight that they'll never give it to me, because they don't know me, either. Sometimes, I don't even think I know who I am."

Running my hand through my hair, I froze when Edward gasped. Following his eyes over, I noticed the bruises starting to show on my skin. Dropping my arm, I tried to pull my sleeve down, but he caught my hand, pushing it back up. Swallowing thickly, he traced the outline of my father's hand print with his fingers.

"Who did this?" His voice was calm, but I could hear the underlying hostility in each word.

"My father," I whispered, knowing I couldn't lie to him. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath, drawing the air in between his clenched teeth. "Edward."

"Has he hurt you before?" I shook my head. "Don't lie to me, Bella."

"He's never hurt me before, Edward," I swore, placing my free hand on his chest. "At least not physically. Usually, he just ignores me, or makes a snide comment at my expense. I guess when I told him he could take his money and go to hell, he got a little upset."

The corners of his mouth twitched. "You really told him that?"

"Yeah," I murmured. "I should have done it a long time ago."

Leaning his forehead against mine, he covered my hand with his. "I would have protected you."

"You couldn't have," I said, curling my fingers around his. "In the back of my mind, I always knew it would come down to this, but I hoped that they'd finally see me. They won't, though. I know that now."

"It's their loss, baby," he soothed, kissing the tip of my nose. "They don't deserve to have you."

"I don't deserve you," I whimpered. "I know I don't, but I love you so much."

"I love you, too, Bella." Pulling me into his apartment, he kicked the door shut, pressing me against it. "I'm never letting you go again. You and me, we're everything, baby. You have to let me in, trust that I'm not like them."

"I do," I whispered.

Sliding his hands down my sides, Edward shimmied my skirt up, lifting me off the ground, and wrapping my legs around his waist. Throwing my arms around his neck, I held on while he carried me through his small, cozy apartment straight through to his bedroom. Settling my feet back on the floor, he dropped his hands to the hem of my blouse, using his eyes to plead with me to raise my arms. He didn't need to, I'd been struggling not to rip our clothes off since he pressed me against his apartment door.

Slowly slipping my shirt off, Edward tossed it behind me, before dropping his eyes down to my breasts. Inhaling a sharp breath, he moved his hands up, cupping me through my sheer ivory bra. My head fell back, the sensation of his hands on me was almost too much. Edward had touched me before, but this time seemed different, almost like we were truly giving ourselves over to the other. Perhaps, we were.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured, flicking the front clasp. Pushing the straps off my shoulders, he lowered his lips to my nipple, feasting on my tender flesh.

"Edward," I gasped, gripping his hair.

While he paid attention to my nipples, his hands ghosted down my spine, finding the zipper on my skirt. Lowering it at slow pace, he slid it down my hips, letting it pool around my feet. Gripping the back of my thighs, he lifted me once again, carrying me over to the bed. Laying me out in front of him, his eyes darkened as he drank me in, his chest heaving with each breath he took.

"The moment I walked away from you, I knew I'd made a mistake." Gripping the bottom of his t-shirt, he stripped it off, moving his hands to the buckle on his belt. Nearly ripping it out of his jeans, he threw it on the floor with his shirt, popping the button and lowering his zipper. "I'm never letting you go again, baby. Ever. You're mine, all mine."

"Yours," I breathed, reaching for him.

Kicking his pants off, he climbed into the bed, hovering over me. His dark boxer briefs and my silky panties were the only thing separating us. Lifting my hips, I whimpered, needing him to touch me. Placing one hand next to my head, he moved his other hand down the side of my body to my hip. Dropping his face down against my neck, Edward slid his arm under me, lifting me off the bed, grinding against me. I gasped, overwhelmed by the sensations skyrocketing through me.

Turning, he nipped at my skin with his teeth, pushing himself harder against me. Every time I opened my mouth, all I heard were the throaty moans and whimpers I tried to keep inside. He was driving me insane with need and want, both with his body and soul. Placing my hands on his shoulders, my fingers crept along the curve of his neck, finding his hair.

Yanking his head back, I groaned. "I need you now!"

"Bella," he growled, digging his fingers into the back of my panties.

"Please, lover, make me yours forever," I begged. "Take my body, my heart, my soul."

Shivering against me, Edward leaned away from me, moving his hands to my hips. Curving his fingers around the flimsy material, he lifted his eyes to mine, tearing them away from my body. Letting his gaze drop down between my legs, his jaw tightened and his breathing became ragged. He was feral, almost like an animal. I'd never been more turned on.

Throwing the remains of my panties onto the floor, Edward shed his boxer briefs, releasing himself from his cotton prison. I wanted to wrap my lips around him, feel his length sliding to the back of my throat, but that would have to wait. Right now, I needed to feel him inside of me, loving my body as much as he loved my soul. Reaching for him, I beckoned him to claim me once and for all.

Taking my hand, Edward pinned it above my head, positioning himself between my thighs. Placing his free hand on my hip, he thrust quickly, filling me in one fluid movement. Arching my back off the bed, I cried out. Never once had I had someone fit inside of me the way he did. Closing his eyes, he pulled back, before entering me again with a hiss. "Fuck, baby, you're so tight."

"More," I gasped, clawing at his hand.

Releasing his grip on me, he moved his hand so that he had both of them on my hips. Setting a fast pace, he took me, showing me with his body what he'd been trying to tell me for months. He loved me, needed me, wanted me almost like I did him. Almost, but not quite.

Edward lifted me off the bed, leaning back on his legs. I wrapped mine around him, feeling him sink deeper into me with every shift of his hips. Finding his hair, I tangled my fingers in his locks, panting breathlessly. Slipping one hand down under me, he other hand found it's way up to the back of my head, knotting his fingers in my hair. Tugging my head back, he brought his mouth to my throat, sucking and nipping his way up to my ear.

"Baby, let go," he whispered, his breath tickled my senses. "Give me all of you; your smiles and laughter, everything you fear and all your tears. Be mine, baby, forever."

"I am," I gasped.

Leaning his head back, he tilted mine back toward him, pressing our foreheads together. The passion, the sheer intensity in his eyes was enough to send me flying over the edge. My body shuddered against him, taking him with me as we reached our climaxes. Holding to him as we rode out our orgasms, I brought my hand up to his cheek. "I love you, Edward."

"I love you."

With a searing kiss, he rolled us so that he hovered over me once again. We eventually drifted off to sleep as the sun started to pour in through the white, plastic mini-blinds that hung in Edward's windows. We'd spent the night wrapped in each other's embrace, letting our bodies say everything our lips had already murmured. We were together. We were perfect.


	6. Chapter 6

**Three Months Later**

"Baby, where do you want Esme to put her stuff?" called Edward. Walking out of my office, I smiled at him and his sister, both of whom had their arms full.

"In the east section, I cleared the entire area for you," I murmured, gesturing in the right direction.

"Okay," she replied, leaving us alone.

Leaning his armful of canvas' against the nearest wall, Edward wrapped his arms around me, pressing his lips to the side of my neck. My eyes fluttered closed, relishing in the feeling of him just holding me. It took me awhile to get used to him being there for me, but I'd never been happier.

Clearing her throat, Esme walked past us. "Just pretend I'm not here."

"Kind of hard to do with you making so much noise," muttered Edward, rolling his eyes. Turning his gaze to mine, he winked. "I'd better help her get the rest before she starts whining. I'll be right back."

"Be careful," I giggled, earning me a scowl. Edward's inability to stay on his feet was something he couldn't hide, no matter how much he tried.

While he followed his sister out of my gallery, I headed over and started looking between her work. Over the last few months, she'd been working on her technique, deepening each stroke, and really growing as an artist. Her debut had been a smashing success with several buyers interested in her. Putting in a little more effort, she'd managed to make a name for herself, something I felt pride for having a small piece of.

"Edward, if you drop that, I will kill you," threatened Esme, following him into the gallery. Both of their arms were full. Giving me a look, he ignored her. I laughed. They bickered, but in reality, they were quite close. Even though my relationship with both had only become stronger over the last few months, I envied them. They still made it seem easy.

Hearing heavy footsteps behind me, I stood up, expecting to find Edward walking up to me. Instead, I found my father walking through the glass doors. Wearing a pair of expensive designer jeans and a white button up shirt, I almost didn't recognize Charlie. This was the first time I'd ever seen him wearing something that wasn't a suit. His hair wasn't perfect, and he almost looked like just any man off the street.

I hadn't seen, or spoken, to him and my mother since they tried to force me to marry Carlisle. While he made sure my car made it back to it's spot in front of my gallery the next morning, and my credit cards still worked, I hadn't used them. For once in my life, I needed to know that I could stand on my own two feet, and not under Charlie Swan's shadow. Letting his eyes drift around the gallery, they settled in the back on Edward and Esme, who were laughing.

"Nice place you've got here," he groused, looking back to me. "You look good."

"Thank you," I replied. "What are you doing here?"

He shrugged his shoulders, avoiding my gaze. "I wanted to see how you were doing."

"I'm great," I mumbled. "Never been better." Nodding his head, pain flashed in his eyes. I couldn't understand why. He's never hid the fact that I was a disappointment to him. Why all the sudden did he decide to care? "Why are you here, Charlie?"

Snapping his head to me, his eyes widen when I used his given name. "I missed you."

"You don't know me well enough to miss," I snarked.

Flinching, he exhaled a sharp breath. "I know."

"Does Mother know you're here?" I wondered. Charlie's wayward frown told me everything I needed to know. My mother didn't give a fuck about my feelings, never had and never would. "Why now?" I asked. "Why come here now?"  
"I wanted to come to you that night," he told me, each word laced with a mixture of humiliation and sincerity. For the first time in his life, Charlie Swan couldn't buy his way out of something. Lifting his eyes to mine, he continued, "But I knew you wouldn't talk to me."

"No, I wouldn't have," I muttered, wrapping my arms around myself. The need to protect myself overwhelmed me. "I don't know what you expect me to say."

"I don't expect you to say anything, Isabella," he sighed. "I was hoping you'd listen to me, though." Shaking my head, I tried to find the right words, but before I could, he said the two words I'd never heard him say, "I'm sorry."

"What?"

"I said, I'm sorry," he repeated. Running his hand over his face and through his hair, he tried to compose himself. For the first time, he exposed his weakness; love for his daughter. "Everything I did, I thought I was doing for you, to make sure you'd be happy, but you weren't. I wanted to make you strong and independent, but all I did was push you away. I never intended for that to happen."

Blowing out the air that had been trapped in my lungs, I laughed, even though none of this could be thought of as funny. "You ignored me for twenty-five years, and in the few times you did acknowledge me, you told me how disappointed you were that I wasn't who you thought I was. Now, you're sorry? Excuse me if I don't believe you."

"I didn't realize my words hurt you so much," he admitted, looking ashamed.

"How could you when you were too busy looking at my faults?" I muttered.

Wincing, he shifted nervously. "They weren't your faults I was too busy looking at, they were mine."

"Yours?" I questioned.

Taking a step closer, he paused when I moved away from him. "The world is harsh, Isabella. People are unforgiving and cold. I wanted you to be strong so they wouldn't be able to hurt you, but I failed you, not the other way around. I thought I had to be tough with you. I was wrong."

"No shit," I grumbled, huffing. Placing my hand over on my chest, took a deep breath, struggling to keep my composure. "You were ready to whore me off, Dad. You loved me so much that you were willing to sell me off to the highest bidder."

"That is not true," he exclaimed, putting his hands up. "Honey, I just didn't want you to be alone anymore."

"I wasn't alone," I murmured, looking over and catching Edward's eyes. Shifting his gaze from me to Charlie, and back, he lifted an eyebrow, silently asking if everything was okay. Nodding, I turned back to my father. "That's Edward. I met him a few months before that night, but I was too ashamed to let you meet him. He thought it was him, but it was you and Mother. I didn't want him to meet you, because I knew what you'd say."

Inhaling a deep breath, Charlie scrutinized Edward, taking in everything from his wild, unkempt hair to his clothes. Tightening his jaw, he shifted his attention back to me. "He's a good man? Treats you good?"

My cheeks heated as I spoke, "He listens to me, tells me that I'm beautiful everyday. I smile more with him, I laugh." I shrugged my shoulders. "He loves me and I love him."

"Will you ever forgive me?" he asked, choking on the words. "Can you give me another chance to be the father you deserve?"

Shaking my head, I released a shaky breath. "I don't know. You really hurt me, Dad."

"And I am so sorry," he cried, covering his mouth with the palm of his hand. It was the first time I'd ever seen my father with tears on his face. "If I could go back, I'd be a better father to you, honey. I'd give you the love you deserve."

"I want to believe you," I whimpered. "I really do, but I need time."

"Time I can give," he quipped, wiping his face off with the sleeve of his shirt. "Can I call you sometime? Maybe we can have lunch or something?"

"Lunch would be nice."

Charlie smiled, clearly relieved. "I should go, but I'll call you in a couple of days to set up that lunch, okay?"

"Sure, that's be good."

Stepping toward me and lifting his arms like he wanted a hug, I stepped away from him, not sure if I was ready for that step. Following him to the front door, I watched him climb into the front seat of his black Mercedes. While I saw the changes in him, even if they were small, we still had a long way to go before I could accept his apology. Maybe one day.

"Baby, are you okay?" Edward came up behind me, slipping his arms around my waist. "That was your father."

"Yes," I murmured, covering his hand with mine. "I'm sorry I didn't introduce you."

"Probably better that you didn't," he chuckled, pressing his lips to the side of my neck. "I might have shoved my foot up his ass for those bruises he gave you."

"Edward," I whispered, turning in his arms. "He apologized and he wants to try to work on our relationship."

Edward tensed, but didn't say anything. The morning after, I had to sit on him to stop him from going to my parents' house and killing them. The mixture of my father's hand prints on me and their attempts to pawn me off onto another man had sent him into a tailspin. It was the first, and only, time I'd ever seen him that angry. After reassuring him a dozen times that I only loved him, he let it go, but never forgotten. Just one of the many things I loved about Edward was how protective he was over me. It was the first of many reasons I love him so much.

"Are you going to try?" he asked, rubbing soothing circles in my back.

I nodded. "I need to see if he's really changed."

"Suppose I get that," he lied, but I didn't call him on it. It would take more than a few tears and groveling for Edward to forgive. That was okay, because regardless, he would be there for me. I knew that now.

Bringing his hand up to my cheek, he brushed the hair behind my ear, allowing a smile to spread over his lips. Feeling my blush creep up my body, I leaned up on my toes, capturing his mouth with mine. Moaning, he deepened the kiss, his hand drifting down to the top of my ass. It wasn't until someone giggled and another person cleared their throat that I realized we weren't alone any longer.

Tearing my lips off of his, we both looked over and found Esme standing on one side of us, a playful grin on her face, and Carlisle on the other side, struggling to hide his smirk.

"What are you doing here?" I asked Carlisle, while Edward muttered to his sister, "Stop watching us."

"I'm here to pick up Esme," Carlisle explained, gesturing to her. I frowned and looked between them.

"How? When? What?" I stammered, sounding foolish.

"Who the hell is this guy!" Edward exclaimed, running a frustrated hand through his hair.

"This is Carlisle," sighed Esme, breathless. Edward's eyes snapped to mine, seeking confirmation that he was indeed the very same Carlisle I'd been expected to marry. "He's my boyfriend."

"Your what?" he shouted, glaring at the startled man. It was kind of cute.

"My boyfriend, you stupid ass," sniped Esme, elbowing him in the ribs. "Stop being a jerk, dork."

"I'm not," Edward grumbled, rubbing his side.

"Yeah, whatever," she scoffed.

I laughed, turning to Carlisle. He watched her with a sparkle in his eyes, pure and utter happiness oozing off of him. "She's the one?"

Shifting his gaze to me, his smile grew wider. "The one I've been searching for, you know."

Looking over at Edward, I pulled my bottom lip between my teeth. "Yeah, I know."

Holding his hand out, Carlisle reached for her. Releasing a breathy gasp, Esme placed her hand in his, allowing him to lead her out of the gallery. Bringing my fingers to my lips, I smiled and watched them walk down the street without a care in the world.

"He's a good guy, right?" Edward asked, slipping his arms back around me.

"Yeah, he is," I replied. Tilting my head back and looking at him. "He loves her."

Huffing, Edward leaned his forehead against mine. "She loves him, too." Sliding my fingers into his hair, I pressed my lips against his. "Do you regret giving everything up for me?"

Shaking my head, I turned in his arms. "You were the sweetest choice I ever made, baby."


End file.
